


Hotel California

by xxRobinxx



Category: American Horror Story: Hotel, The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: A gay love story that I’ve had inside my head for years now, A lot of murder, AHS and TUA crossover event yeah boy, Addiction, Alcohol, American Horror Story: Hotel Spoilers, Angst, Bareknuckle Fighting, Blood and Violence, Canon Divergent, Character Death, Childhood Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Drug Abuse, Drugs, Fluff, Gay Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, I’ll probably add more tags as I continue, James March is a dick, M/M, Murder, PTSD, Period Typical Homophobia, Rating is mature but it may change for some chapters, Romance, So y’all know the timeline is fucked, The Umbrella Academy (TV) Spoilers, WARNINGS:, also Klaus didn’t go to ‘Nam sorry Klave fans, and a mama’s boy, and by canon divergent I mean canon compliant up to a point but then it’s anyone’s game honestly, angst angst angst, but also a sugar daddy, gay mlm sex, instead of going to the sixties Klaus goes to the thirties and the others get all scattered around, it’s Klaus, mlm story, my oc is a murder puppy, probably gore knowing me, probably not too explicit, the other siblings aren’t actually in it that much I just tagged them in case, they're so in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:09:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25917133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxRobinxx/pseuds/xxRobinxx
Summary: The Hotel Cortez - opened August 23rd 1926 - was notoriously constructed and owned by serial killer James Patrick MarchUnfortunately, Klaus Hargreeves never paid that much attention to history.After narrowly escaping Vanya’s apocalypse, Klaus and the rest of the Hargreeves siblings are scattered throughout time. After landing in 1933 on his own, separated even from Ben, a desperate Klaus accepts help from the kind but enigmatic Will Evers; a young man so entangled in the dark mysteries of the Cortez that Klaus’s new ally may in fact cost him everything.
Relationships: Klaus Hargreeves/OC, Klaus Hargreeves/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	Hotel California

**Author's Note:**

> So this was an idea that I had a long time ago but that I decided to write out now because @Zweebie and I had a two hour long rant about Klaus’s characterisation in season two of TUA, so I felt compelled to give my boy the love story that he deserves. 
> 
> So this piece is obviously completely canon divergent from season two. It’s mostly season one compliant with a few exceptions;  
> -Klaus never went to Vietnam. Sorry hardcore Klave stans, this fic definitely isn’t for you! No hate though!  
> -Because Klaus never went to Vietnam, his reason for getting sober was when he died and Reginald told him he was a disappointment because of all his untapped potential he had that ‘fuck you’ moment that the TUA writers keep denying us and decided he was sick of being treated like an extra by his family.  
> -Klaus still has PTSD but it’s from his childhood our boy has Suffered.  
> -Minor detail but obviously since Klaus didn’t Vietnam he also didn’t Vietnam Tattoo.
> 
> My reason for separating Klaus and Ben in this fic is because I kinda wanted to have Klaus completely alone and isolated, plus I never really connected with Ben so I feel like my characterisation of him would be super forced.  
> Also Ben has the brain cell so like half of the shit that happens in this fic wouldn’t happen if he was there.
> 
> TW for this chapter: Mentions of drugs and alcohol, mentions of addiction, mild injury, threat and period typical homophobia.

Fire.  
That was the last thing that Klaus saw before the jump.  
A surging, hellish tidal wave of screaming flames sweeping over the Earth, consuming everything that it touched.  
He felt Diego's hand grip his own until the skin crushed, heard Luther gasp beneath the roar. The inferno heat seared Klaus's skin. He opened his mouth...  
And then he was floating. Blinding lights and shadows danced feverishly around him, spinning faster and faster until they blurred together like a broken kaleidoscope. The gaps between his vertebrae yawned so widely that he feared his body would split apart at the seams. His limbs were weightless, his breath rushed in and out of his lungs inconsequentially like sand passing through fingers.  
Then the pit of his stomach tugged sharply downwards. There was a tearing sound, and suddenly he was falling. A voice cried out his name from above, but it sounded like a scream from underwater.  
The pavement struck his side first. A sharp pain shot through Klaus's shoulder and a pathetic, hoarse sound fell out of his mouth.  
"Diego," was the first thing that he rasped, then; "Five? Allison?"  
He blinked at the streaks of light imprinted behind his eyes. They obscured everything except for his own pale hands scrambling over rough ground to find a familiar grip.  
"Ben! Di-"  
Klaus curled in on himself as he was overtaken by a coughing fit that tasted of bile and smoke. Where was he? When was he? He squeezed his eyes shut, hard, for a moment before opening them again. He could see better now; brick walls either side of him, concrete beneath his cheek, a trash can next to his elbow. He heard a skittering, rustling sound and turned his head to see a discarded newspaper fluttering in a cold breeze. The fire was gone; at least it seemed as though it was. The only evidence that it had existed was the ghost of its searing kiss prickling along his entire left side.  
"Did we do it?" His ears rang in response. "Guys?"  
Klaus rolled himself over onto his back, his long coat wrapping around his torso. As the smell of singed fabric reached his nose, his green eyes fixed upon a full moon hanging low in the sky, bathing his face in its silvery glow.  
"Ah!" He cried, his face splitting apart with an artless grin. He threw his hands skywards as much as his clothing would allow, reaching for it with extended fingers as if he meant to caress it.  
"The moon!" He crowed, wriggling his arms and legs to free himself of the tangle of his coat; "Ha ha! The moon! Five you beautiful son of a bitch, you did it! Oh-"  
Klaus allowed his arms to drop spread-eagle to the pavement and released a sigh that he felt he'd been holding for the past three days. He slipped his eyes closed and sank into the ground, at once deflated and exhilarated, and listened to his own pulse pounding in his ears.  
"You know, this almost beats getting high."  
He waited for the barb that would get thrown his way, but for once he wouldn't be pretending not to mind. Perhaps it would be Ben prodding at his pathetic previous attempts at sobriety; 'I guess it only took the apocalypse to get you off drugs.'  
Or maybe it would be Diego with a predictable - but nonetheless perfectly delivered - 'Marry it if you're so glad to see it.'  
It could be Allison- oh, wait, never mind.  
Klaus waited.  
The wind whistled, carrying on it the sound of distant music. The newspaper rustled again.  
Klaus popped one eye open and looked from side to side. At one end of the alley there was a wall with a sun-bleached poster tacked onto it, torn in three corners and barely hanging on by the fourth. The pale remnants of a woman's face smiled coldly. At the other end of the alley there was a dark, empty street with a row of buildings on the other side of the road.  
There was nothing, and no one, else besides.  
"Where the hell did they go?" Klaus wondered aloud as he pushed himself upright. They couldn't have gone far, Klaus remembered holding Diego's hand as they jumped. He was holding Luther's, too, and Luther had been holding Vanya, and Ben-  
Where was Ben?  
Klaus looked up and down the empty alleyway again.  
"Ben? Hello?"  
The distant music sounded again, along with a chorus of echoing laughter. Klaus swallowed and pressed his lips together.  
"Okay, very funny. Showtime, Bentacles, c'mon."  
His legs wavered like a baby foal's as he stood with his weight leaning into the wall. Klaus's knee hit the trash can and it clattered, sending his already-thrumming heartbeat racing with a sickening jolt.  
"Jesus-!" Klaus pressed his palm to his chest, "Seriously, man, I'm too sober for this, 'kay? So just...ha ha, you got me!"  
He forced a laugh from his dry throat, but when it bounced back off of the walls it only sounded strained. Klaus held his breath to listen for the sound of muffled snickering, but again that music, nowhere and everywhere all at once and taunting him with its joyful strains. When he inhaled again, it hitched on the back of his tongue. He clapped twice, harder than necessary to compensate for the trembling in the tips of his fingers.  
"Here, Benny, Benny, Benny."  
Ben wouldn't do this, right? Not really. Not after the apocalypse. Right?  
Maybe he was just tired. Yeah - that was it. He was tired after using his powers for the first time in over a decade, he just needed a little encouragement, that was all.  
"Okay, okay, okay..." Klaus mumbled to himself as he licked his lips, hunching over and splaying his palms facing upwards. A feeling like shockwaves of vibrations started flooding down his arms and out of his fingers. The space around them started to pulse with a deep blue glow as he reached out for Ben's presence. The air surrounding Klaus was thin and empty without his comforting weight; no matter how hot it became in summer, he could never sleep without a blanket pressing down on his back, and the silence was too silent without Ben's rustling and scuffing. Klaus reached down to the poster and found only rats. He spilled out of the mouth of the alley and into the street like blood trickling into a drain. His hands began to tremble, his brow fell into a deep furrow.  
"Come on," Klaus gritted as he swallowed up more and more emptiness, "come on!"  
Nausea hit him straight in the head and his vision blurred. Klaus sagged against the wall and staggered, a groan falling past his lips followed by a breathless heave. The blue glow flickered, clung to his skin for a moment longer, and then dissipated in smoky tendrils.  
"Ben! B- oh god," Klaus pressed his hand to the side of his head, where a stabbing pain was starting to radiate through the centre of his skull, "Ben! Diego!"  
His voice began to rise. He staggered forwards, pulling himself along by the grooves between the bricks in the alley wall, scratching at them with his fingertips.  
"Five! Five! Allison! Someone!"  
Klaus's heart rose up his throat so far that he choked on it. His stomach twisted violently, his chest tightened around his lungs. The phantom taste of tobacco surged up on his tongue and his fingers twitched restlessly. He pictured a cigarette, then a flask, then a joint rolling between his fingers. Then one neat white pill nestled in the palm of his hand, then two, then three, then four. Klaus shoved the heels of his palms against his eyes and pressed until he saw spots.  
"No, no, dammit! Focus!"  
His hard breathing was interrupted by an urgent rustling by his feet and soft scratching at the exposed skin of his ankle. Klaus slowly pried his hands away from his face and looked down. Two pages of the open newspaper fluttered at him like pale flailing arms.  
The date.  
He hastily dropped to his knees - never mind his spinning head - and snatched it up with both hands. The fragile paper crumpled under his grip, and in the places where it had become wet the ink bled in long blue blooms, but the front page was still legible under the stark moonlight.  
'Los Angeles Times' the front page read in bold, curling letters. Beneath it was a headline declaring that prices were down this Thanksgiving, alongside an advert for new, larger cans of Heinz cooked spaghetti. Klaus traced the page with his fingertip, blinking rapidly as he skimmed the top of the paper with his gaze. Eventually he found it tucked away in the right hand corner.  
"November twentieth...nineteen thirty two."  
The air rushed out of his lungs all at once. Klaus sat back on his heels and stared at the small ink print for several long moments as he earnestly thought through his situation. He heard it in Ben's voice; the slow, flat tone he would use when he felt Klaus was being particularly obtuse.  
'You - a very open pansexual who is barely two days sober - are stuck in nineteen thirty two having just escaped an apocalypse. You can't find any of your family. You have no idea how to get home.'  
Those three sentences replayed over and over in Klaus's head like a mantra until finally he turned his face up towards the moon once more, heaved a full-body sigh and simply said;  
"Shit."

Klaus swallowed harshly and heard a dry click. The thirst burning inside his throat was sandpaper-coarse and was only growing worse with every step that he took down the pavement. For the first time that he could remember since he was thirteen years old, Klaus wanted nothing more than a huge jug of water - the kind that Grace used to keep next to the plants in the kitchen in case they needed tending, that got so heavy when it was full that you could barely lift it with one arm.  
Trudging through the streets of Los Angeles was something that Klaus would've been accustomed to under different circumstances; if he weren't sober and it were circa 2008, for example. And wherever he was, it certainly was no Sunset Boulevard. The few boxy, carriage-like cars that drove past rattled and rumbled. Each side of the long dark street was lined with a row of squat buildings; most of them had boards on at least one of their windows, empty wooden crates stacked up outside their doors or clumsily-patched holes in the rooftops. One of them had awning over the doorway that read 'clothing, hats, hosiery' in washed-out red. The yellowing windows of the store were blocked out with paper declaring 'CLOSING DOWN - EVERYTHING MUST GO' again and again, hanging over the head of the blanketed figure huddled tightly into the side of the building with their legs drawn up against their stomach and their bare, blackened feet peeking out at the spherical streetlamp above.  
Impulsively, Klaus glanced around. Upon yet again finding himself alone he shivered and drew his coat tighter around himself.  
He remembered the same feeling - cold prickling crawling up the back of his neck, tight swimming in his chest, trembling in his legs that went all the way into the bone - as Ben had screwed up his face at him and said;  
"There's nothing that Luther wouldn't do to save your scrawny junkie ass."  
And Klaus had parted his lips to make a point, a myriad of which sprung to mind, but then he'd seen the look of absolute faith on his brother's face and...well, he couldn't. Klaus knew that Ben's ideas of his siblings were mostly based on rose-tinted memories, and though it meant that it made Klaus the family disappointment in Ben's eyes, he'd rather let him live in a world where only one of them had fucked up their lives beyond repair.  
‘God knows I wish I could.’  
"Hey buddy, you lost?"  
"Oh, leave him alone, Ralph!"  
It took Klaus a moment to realise that the voices which had pulled him from his thoughts were directed towards him. He lifted his head and blinked at the small group which had appeared and now stood at the mouth of an alley similar to the one which he had been deposited into. At the front was a shortish, skinny man with slicked down black hair and a protruding nose. Both he and the woman who had her hand on his elbow were wearing the kinds of clothes that Klaus and Allison used to chatter about in their free time - Saturdays, noon to half-noon. Classic vintage; wide-legged trousers with braces and long white shirt, knee-length floral red button-up dress with a square bodice, slightly cinched at the waist.  
Klaus would have allowed himself a smile if the short man didn't already have that gleam in his eye that said he was searching for a reason to punch somebody.  
Behind them was a much larger man - tall and broad across the shoulders and arms. His posture was one of studied relaxation, with one shoulder propped against the brick wall and his hands in his pockets, but the way that his dark eyes flicked between his friend and Klaus suggested anything but.  
"Well, d'you talk?" The short man drawled. The woman smacked him across the arm, then used the same hand to pat her elegant brown curls back into place.  
"Don't be such a crumb, Ralph!" She hissed before casting an apologetic red-lipped smile; "I'm sorry about him, he gets all burnt up* when he's had some booze."  
Klaus opened his mouth to reply, but any appropriate words seemed to fail him. Ralph surreptitiously rubbed the place where her hand had struck as he scanned Klaus from head to toe with a pinched expression.  
"I haven't seen anyone dressed like you before."  
"No, I get that a lot." Klaus said airily, sending a glance down the empty road. Ralph looked like he would be fast, but for once he had the advantage of being the most sober of the two. His legs were heavy, though, and his right knee was starting to develop a worrying tremor when he leaned too heavily on it.  
"So what are you? A bum?" Ralph's lip curled up until it revealed a missing incisor. "You queer?"  
Klaus's stomach dropped so fast that he swore he heard it hit the pavement.  
"Oh...boy." He glanced down the road again.  
"Ralph!" The woman shrieked with scandalised wide eyes. Ralph shrugged her off with a roll of his bony shoulder and a scoff. In fact, he seemed bolstered by her outrage, puffing out his chest and splaying his arms. The tall man stiffened.  
"What? I'm just asking a question. What, a fella can't ask a question now?"  
He took one swaggering step forwards. Purposeful.  
Klaus blinked, and the tall man had his arm across Ralph's chest.  
"That's enough." He said softly. His expression was calm. The light from the street lamp shone down on his blonde curls and cast half his face in shadow.  
"Will, I'm just-"  
Ralph tried to push against Will's arm. It didn't budge, but even in darkness Klaus could see that peaceful expression visibly harden.  
"Go home, buddy."  
Klaus had never in his life heard 'buddy' sound less inviting. He held his breath. Ralph stuck his large nose up while he shrank back as if it would maintain a remnant of dignity, but when the woman sank her nails into his sleeve and started to frogmarch him down the pavement in his overlarge clothes, he looked like a scorned schoolboy. Angry whispers turned to indignant shouting the further their twin figures retreated down the street.  
"Well, that's him behind the eight ball*." Will huffed as he half-turned towards Klaus, who nodded slowly even though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was agreeing to.  
“He seems nice.”  
Will gave him a sidelong glance and a slight smirk.  
“Yeah, he’s a jerk. Lola’s a riot, but he’s her brother, so...” He shrugged, and when he said ‘jerk’ it struck Klaus how strong his Brooklyn drawl was. It also struck Klaus how much smaller he looked now, and how much softer his face was up close. He had a strong jaw and a nose which had a slight bump in the side from being broken a few times, but there were dimples on either side of his lips and a few dark freckles under his eyes, which were large and whiskey brown and ooh pretty- no, focus!  
“Thank you!” Klaus blurted after staring for probably a moment or two too long. Will ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck.  
“Don’t worry about it.” He said, but with his accent it came out like one word; ‘Donwoyaboutit’.  
Klaus shifted from one foot to the other. Now that the excitement had passed, his thirst had come back ten fold and he was starting to feel the dull ache of nicotine withdrawal behind his eyes.  
“Hey, um...” he started, then paused. Will lifted his head and looked at him expectantly.  
Well, there was no harm in asking at this point, right?  
“I am actually lost, and I’ve lost my whole family too despite, well, y’know, so do you know of anywhere I can stay for...” Klaus shifted his eyes up to the sky and twirled his hands as he thought, “...a while? Preferably cheap to free. A nice dumpster - I’m not fussy.”  
Will’s brow furrowed slightly.  
“You don’t got anywhere to go?”  
“Well, I’m somewhat of a nomad.” Klaus went to pose, remembered what had just transpired and decided against it. “So like I said, if you would kindly point me in the direction of anywhere I can get a drink of water and preferably not get killed, kidnapped or otherwise.”  
Klaus pressed his hands together beneath his chin, flashed what he hoped was a winsome smile and shifted his weight again to hide the fact that his knee had begun to sag precariously. Will pursed his lips in thought, a myriad of expressions flickering across his features, at one point reaching up to scratch at the bridge of his nose before he released a barely-audible sigh and said in a resigned tone;  
“Yeah. I know a place.”

**Author's Note:**

> *  
> Burnt up = angry  
> Behind the eight ball = in trouble
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought!


End file.
